


The Hunting Party

by NixItAll



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Outdoor Sex, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27076267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixItAll/pseuds/NixItAll
Summary: Peace had reigned between the Nine Realms for a hundred years and for the Goddess of War, this just would not do. Loki suggests a visit to Midgard for her and the Warriors Three to get their stress out by hunting Nazis.Sif finds another type of stress relief too. His name is Bucky.Note: This story was written in 2012 so despite having some knowledge of future events from comics, this is only including movies from The Avengers and earlier.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sif
Kudos: 2





	The Hunting Party

Peace had reigned between the Nine Realms for a hundred years and for the Goddess of War, this just would not do.

Sif absently tapped her fingers on the table. Despite sparring with Thor all morning and loosing countless arrows on the practice range, she was still restless and not the slightest bit hungry. 

“If you continue that incessant rapping, I will very well lose my appetite!” Volstagg roared, biting into a turkey leg. Sif buried her head in her arms to muffle her scream of frustration.

“It would be wise not to displease her, friend,” Fandral added, “If she does not kill an enemy soon, she may very well turn her aggression towards you.”

Loki let out a long sigh from the doorway. “Honestly, you four are going to be the death of me! Have you no other amusements?” The Warriors Three looked at each other blankly. Loki sighed again. “Very well, I spoke to Heimdall, apparently the Midgardians are falling over each other to see who can murder each other the fastest, and perhaps you can slake your bloodlust there.”

Sif raised her head and eyed Loki suspiciously. Her hand unconsciously wove in her hair as it often did when Loki offered something with no clear self-serving purpose. “And what do you benefit from this?” He plopped down unceremoniously on one of the plush fainting couches and leaned his head back in fake serenity.

“I will not have to listen to your whining anymore.”

0o0o0o0

Heimdall made no nod of recognition, he already knew what their request was going to be. “We wish to travel to Midgard. We hear there is unrest there…”

“And wish to add to it no doubt.” They did not even bother to look abashed. 

“We just want to have a little friendly competition, Heimdall.” Fandral piped in, “Nothing that anyone besides our little group has to know about.”

“Your little group and Loki.” He said knowingly.

Hogun shrugged in his usual stoic manner. 

After a moment’s silence, Heimdall stepped aside. “I have been watching these Midgardians and their acts of war are most grievous. I feel no guilt in letting you pass, but I cannot guarantee Odin will be as generous should he find out.”

“Then we will all do our best to make sure that he does not.” Fandral assured him, stepping into the transportation chamber.

As he activated the bridge, he nodded to Sif, “May the best warrior win.”

0o0o0o0

Bucky was not happy with the situation. His support was too far down the hill and there was not enough brush for good cover. He needed to make his shot and get out fast. The seconds ticked by in agonizing slowness. The German squad was trying not to break into the clearing, but all he needed was for one to take a step too far. He settled down in the grass and peered through the scope of his Johnson rifle. “Come on you Nazi bastard, take one more step.”

Then suddenly, one did. Before Bucky could squeeze the trigger, the man was down with a dagger sticking out of his back. That is when all hell broke loose. More soldiers got pushed into the clearing and when Bucky saw what was chasing them, he had to set his rifle down and rub his eyes. Three men in what looked like medieval armor were cutting down the surprised Germans with swords and axes. Then he saw her. She was dressed in similar armor brandishing a sword and shield and ducking between opponents as if she was dancing. Bucky stared at the action unfolding in the clearing and wondered if he was really seeing this or the war had finally gotten to him. She had her long black hair bound at the back of her head. It swung with each graceful move, whipping a soldier in the face as she bashed her shield into the face of another and stabbed the man behind her. The group made quick work of the soldiers as Bucky watched them through his scope. They gestured to one another and moved back to the woods in pursuit of the rest of the German squad. She moved to follow when a soldier who was not quite as dead as she had presumed, grabbed her ankle and brought her to the ground. With one hand he held himself up and raised his pistol with the other, but he never got to fire. Bucky took a deep breath, let it out slowly and squeezed the trigger. With a thirty-aught-six through his brainstem, the man was definitely dead now.

The girl jerked her head around and saw Bucky. She should not have been able to pinpoint him so quickly, but she did. She looked him right in the eyes and smiled. He was too stunned to smile back or do anything at all. It was a full two minutes after she disappeared into the trees after her cohorts that he recovered and worked his way down the ridge to meet up with his team. He had no idea what he was going to tell them.

0o0o0o0

“What happened back there?” Fandral asked as she rejoined the group. He took in the mess of brains and blood she was trying to wipe off her legs.

“We have an ally.”

“How many?” Volstagg stopped walking.

“I do not know, perhaps just the one. I think we should warn him.”

“We should not interfere,” Hogun added grimly. Sif let out a frustrated grunt. She pulled her golden talisman from her pocket and turned it in her hand to settle her nervous tension.

“We have interfered already and you know those weapons at the factory are no more fitting to this realm than we are.” She looked to Fandral for support, “Someone or something has already interfered.” The others did not share her enthusiasm, but it was her debt to be repaid, not theirs.

“We need to make camp soon anyway and this area is not the most secure,” Fandral began diplomatically, “we should follow the ridgeline South and if we happen to find your… friends, we can decide what to do then.” This answer satisfied everyone and they proceeded on their march.

0o0o0o0

Bucky set down his pen. His letter to Steve was not complete, but he had reached an impasse of what he wanted to say. It had been two days and he had not told his commander or the other members of his team about what happened in the clearing. He had not come this far for a Section Eight. The boys from his squad were playing craps down at the mess. He let out a breath, stared down at the letter and decided he ought to go join them. He never made it to the mess tent.

0o0o0o0

Sif was shrouded behind a low branch watching the soldiers laugh and pass an illicit bottle of booze between them. She and the Warriors Three were to return to Asgard in the morning and the men had already settled for the night, but Sif was restless and thought it better to use her time patrolling the surrounding forest. That is how she came to be watching the men of the army camp as they shook off the monotony of war for one night. She became too entranced however and coupled with the exhaustion of the week, she dropped her usual alertness to her surroundings. When she heard the twig snap, her hand automatically closed on the hilt of her sword.

“Hello Beautiful.”

She turned slowly, not wanting to act alarmed. It was the man from the hill. When she did not answer, he took a few steps forward into the moonlight. He took in her Asgardian dress, bloodied lip and battle-tousled appearance. He scowled. “Are you an Amazon? I would think you were a spy, but in that get-up, you’d have to be the worst spy ever.”

“It is a good thing I am not a spy then, but I do have information for you,” she smiled, but did not move her hand away from the sword, “I do not suppose I have the appearance of a local,” she said with a glance down at her armor. He was studying her carefully and she took the opportunity to do the same. He was of her height, dark hair and eyes, his soldier’s uniform flattered his fit form and his hat sat at a jaunty angle she was sure was not regulation. His skin was pale in the moonlight, making his dark blue eyes more intense as he took her in.

She let her hand leave the sword hand and held it out to him as she had seen other Midgardians do in greeting. She was already in trouble and would surely hear no end of it from the others if they found out so she might as well make it worth it. “I am Sif.”

He stared at her outstretched hand for a moment, not his usual custom for greeting women, but she was a most unusual woman. “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes at your service.” He pulled her hand upward intending to kiss her knuckles, “but you can call me Bucky.” The move startled her, having already been caught lapsing in attentiveness. She punched him square in the jaw. 

The next thing he knew, he was on his ass, rubbing his cheek. “Damn it, broad, I was just trying to greet you proper-like.”

“I apologize, I am a bit jumpy,” she held out her hand again, “let me help you up.” Not letting her get the better of him again, he snatched her hand and yanked hard so she landed with a surprised thud next to him. 

“Now we’re square.” He rubbed his jaw again for effect. She laughed. “So tell me, what brings a drop dead gorgeous woman,” he brushed the sleeve of her armor, “in chain mail no less, to the front lines?”

She considered this for a moment. Only someone of Loki’s lying abilities could talk their way out of this one. If she told him the truth, he would not believe her or worse yet, he would believe her, but would anyone believe him? Maybe it was the Midgardian air, or the pent up frustrations of her stagnant life in Asgard, ignored by Thor and not ignored enough by Loki, she let it out. All of it, Asgard, the wager, the bifrost, everything. Bucky took it all in. Some of the words rang familiar to him. His knowledge of Norse mythology was weak, but not absent entirely. This girl was telling the truth or she was as crazy as the Mad Hatter, either way he could tell she believed every word she spoke. 

She told him about the weapons Hydra was making, how they were capturing soldiers to use as labor and where their troops were advancing.

“I appreciate the intel, but why are you telling me this?”

“I am in your debt for your help in the clearing. I know that was you. In Asgard, we fight with cold weapons. I let my inexperience with the Midgardian armaments get the better of me. Now I have told you everything, what about you? What brings you to this fight?” He considered her question for a minute before answering. 

“I’m no fan of violence, but it’s my duty to my country and all the people I care about to do what I can to protect them. Not everybody can stand up for themselves so I’ve got to be that guy who can stand up for them.” He nodded as if satisfied with his answer. “My best friend, he’s more of a brother to me, he’s that little guy from Brooklyn that was too dumb to run away from a fight. If I can be half as noble as him, then I am a better person for it.”

He leaned back against a tree wistfully, the night had taken such a peculiar turn that he was strangely relaxed. He did not even notice her leaning over until her lips were on his cheek as if that would cure the bruise already forming from her punch. Not wanting to miss out on a good thing, he turned his head and caught her mouth with his before she could change her mind. 

She did not know how long she was kissing him before they came up for air. It was not what she had anticipated happening: It was better. The thing about satisfying the hunger for battle is it often stirred hungers for… other things. Bucky wrapped his fingers into the neckline of her armor and pulled her back to him. He was not going to let her back away without putting his best effort into it. He had a reputation to uphold. He had nothing to fear however, Sif did not pull away.

Her fingers traced along the buttons of his field jacket working them open and sliding her hand underneath. He cupped her neck and held her tight, torn between the need to pull her closer and the need to get her clothes off. She made the decision for him, placing her index finger over his lips to silence any protest. She drew her sword and tossed it on to her shield, two daggers followed and a weapon strangely reminiscent of a scimitar. He smiled and added his pistol on the pile of weapons. His hands moved to the hem of her mail shirt and worked it upwards. With effort on both their parts, she was free of it. He stood up to admire her. He thought she would be more vulnerable without her armor, but she was just as fierce and noble in the thin shirt that clung to her breasts immodestly. 

She rose to her feet too, running her hands up his thighs, his sides, his chest as she stood. She reached down and gave his cock a light squeeze through the rough fabric of his pants. As if he needed the encouragement. He pulled her against him and kissed her with a fierceness he held back from other women. His tongue was in her mouth and she met him with equal vigor. He pulled away when he tasted the sharp tang of blood. Her lips were swollen and their exertions had reopened the split near the corner of her mouth. He leaned in to place a feather light kiss on the wound, then trailed not-so-gentle ones to her ear, her neck and along her sharp collarbone. His hands were under her shirt exploring her body with earnest strokes. His thumbs slid over her nipples with just the right amount of friction to make her gasp. In a quick move her shirt was tugged over her head and she grasped the back of his neck as his mouth was on her bare chest. Her free hand trailed down to his belt buckle, her fingers making quick work of it and the closure of his pants. He paused in his ministrations to look at her beautiful face in the moonlight. Her eyes were dark with lust and she nodded in confirmation to the question he had not asked aloud.

“Yes.”

His hands came to her hips and pulled the last remaining barrier down. Her pants were made of no fabric he had ever encountered before. It was thick, but had a stretch to it so he was able to work them over the supple leather boots that covered her calves. He did not have the patience to remove the boots as well. In a move that even impressed himself, he lifted her off her feet and pressed her into a nearby tree. She wrapped her legs around him, using her feet to push his pants down. There was no question of her readiness and he was achingly hard for her. With a quick stroke he was in her. There was something inhumanly solid about her, inhumanly tight. He had to pause to breathe for a moment. Sif gave him a devilish smile and an impatient squirm. He pounded into her with everything he had. She relished the fact that he was not holding anything back from her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck in an attempt to stifle her pleasured cries. As much as he wanted to hear her scream, it would not do to attract attention from camp. She dug her fingers into the muscle of his shoulder, and he pushed her harder against the rough bark of the tree. It tore at her already bruised skin, so much so, she had to stop him.

“Wait, set me down, please.” He obliged, worried that he had unintentionally hurt her. “The tree,” she breathed, “lie down.” He smiled and obliged again. “Now you get to feel nature digging into your back.” She straddled him and before she could lower herself on to him, she reached above his head and retrieved his cap from the long forgotten pile of clothing. She set it on her head, trying to replicate his trademark angle before taking him in with excruciating slowness. She rocked slowly at first before building up to their previous momentum. This new angle suited him well. He could worship her body with long strokes of his hands and watch her breasts bounce teasingly above his face. He hung on for more than he thought would be possible, until it was absolute agony not to cum. She was not far behind him when he brought his hand between them to stroke her clit until she had to bite her hand to keep from screaming when she came undone above him. 

She collapsed on top of him and they held each other until their breathing slowed. She wanted to stay with him like this forever, but that wasn’t an option. Come sunrise, she would return to Asgard. He needed to return to his friends. 

Without saying a word, they rose to collect their clothes and brush each other free of dirt and pine needles. He helped her back into her mail, not without stealing another caress of her breasts first. She handed him his hat after he had his pants refastened. His shirt had been torn in two. She did not even remember doing that. He set the hat on her head, getting the angle just right. 

“It looks much better on you.” She smiled reached into her pocket, producing a glittering metal coin. There were markings on it he could not understand and an elaborate woven design.

“It is a talisman from Asgard so you’ll not forget me.”

“I don’t need a coin to never forget you. Not a chance of that happening.” He flipped the coin over in his hand. “What does this inscription mean?”

“It is a number, 84, my score for the wager.” He gave a low whistle.

“You took out 84 Nazis in the matter of a couple days? You know the army could use a dame like you.” He smiled, already knowing what her answer would be. “Don’t you need this?” He held it out to her, but she just closed his hand around it. 

“I do not care who earned the most kills. I already won.” With that she gave him a sweet smile and took a step backwards. He pulled her forward and kissed her hard, not caring if his fingers left bruises on her arm. She kissed him back with equal fervor. 

“Bucky!” a soldier’s voice carried through the trees. Sif backed away in the opposite direction.

“Farewell, Sergeant Barnes,” she gave him a sloppy imitation of a salute.

“Hey, when this war’s over and you feel like visiting this realm again, come to Brooklyn. I’ll show you a real night on the town.” She nodded and faded into the night.

“Bucky!”

“Right here!”

0o0o0o0

Loki was waiting at the Bifrost upon their return. He took in the scrappy warriors. “Well?”

Hogun slammed his token into Loki’s open palm and walked past him to the city. “They fight for a cause with no honor, however many we killed would not be enough.” That was the last any of them saw of Hogun for several days.

Fandral and Volstagg managed an even tie. They compared stories on their way to the healing room, Sif followed them quietly, not looking at Loki. Not that he would let her get away with that. He fell into step beside her. “And your token, Sif? Was this not all your conception yet you do not wish to share?” Volstagg looked over his shoulder to indicate they wanted to hear her answer too. 

“I lost it.” Her voice was small, but it seemed to satisfy her friends in front of her. Loki only glared at her. He knew better than anyone when she told a lie. 

“Well, since you forfeit, it seems Hogun is our clear winner and he is in no mood to celebrate,” Loki stated with disappointment, “I guess this was a thrilling success.” A small quirk appeared at the corner of her mouth. That depends on what you count a thrilling success. 

She left the group at her door, more interested in a hot soak than tending to her injuries at the moment. 

“Oh Sif,” Loki spoke after the others were out of earshot. She made to close the door on him, but before the latch clicked, she clearly heard him. “Nice hat.”

0o0o0o0

Sif blinked in the bright sunlight. This was Midgard as she had never seen it. Tall buildings reached high above the paved ground she stood on. Not like the smooth shapes of Asgard, but angular and irregular and covered in glittering lights. 

“You can tour Times Square later, I would like you to meet my friends,” Thor spoke with his usual enthusiasm as he led her and the Warriors Three to SHEILD’s New York Headquarters. There, they were introduced to all manner of extraordinary people. One man in particular caught her attention, not anything about him exactly, but his clothes. It sparked a memory of a previous trip to Midgard, one she would never forget. 

“Steve Rogers,” he said as he shook her hand, “I’m sorry if I seem rude, but you look very familiar to me.” They both agreed that was quite peculiar and resumed their introductions with the others. 

It was not until that evening when she was finally alone and settled in her guest room that she dug an old familiar hat out of her travel satchel. She did not know quite why she brought with her it other than seemed to bring her luck on Midgard. She knew he had fallen in battle, Heimdall told her that not long after her return. She did not press him for details. It was all she needed to know.

A knock at her door broke her reverie. 

“Enter,” she called, placing the hat back in her satchel. Steve Rogers appeared in the doorway, with an unassuming smile and clutching a leather-bound book.

“I’m sorry to bother you this late, but I realized how I recognized you and I couldn’t rest until I showed you.” He helped himself to a seat on the couch next to her and opened the book. It was an old sketchbook. She nodded and he continued, “I don’t know how much they told you about me, but I was born almost a century ago and have spent most of the last seventy years frozen in the arctic ice.” He spilled this information as if it was a common occurrence or he was simply tired of telling the story. He took a deep breath and flipped to a marked page in his book. Her heart stopped for a moment. It was her. She gasped audibly.

“But, how?”

“Back then I imagined myself a bit of an artist. When I caught up with my best friend during the war, he spoke frequently of a woman he met in the forest. I never really believed him, but I drew this from his descriptions of her.” Her hand covered her mouth, but he could understand the word she said.

“Bucky.”

He nodded and turned a few pages. What she saw brought tears to her eyes. It was him. Some drawings were of him holding his rifle, others of him flipping playing cards into a hat and one of him sitting on a barstool, whispering into a girl’s ear. She smiled as Steve’s smooth hand brought him back to life after so many years had passed. She sniffed and tried to pull herself together. 

“I guess he wasn’t crazy, you really did exist.” Sif could only nod, afraid her voice might crack if she spoke. She reached into her bag and produced the hat for Steve. He ran his fingers over the smooth edge and turned it over in his hands. Clearly written on the band in faded permanent marker was the word BARNES. It was Steve’s turn to well up.

“He told me about his friend who inspired him to fight for the right cause, no matter the cost.” She smiled at another memory, “he also promised me a night on the town in Brooklyn should I ever visit.” Steve stood up suddenly and offered her his hand and a gentle smile.

“We can’t let that promise go unfulfilled.”


End file.
